Wednesday, February 27, 2013

I have nicknames for people. No, not the usual 'Jerk" "Idiot' or 'Pinhead' but actual nicknames that I use to identify them. If you know me and the person in question then you might know what I call them. Otherwise, it makes no sense. I'll give you a few examples.

There's a woman at JDRF named Marcy. Little Man and I have dubbed her Marceline the Vampire Queen from our fave cartoon, "Adventure Time". This is only in reference to her name and does not indicate that Marcy is a female, color-sucking vampire. If you don't have a child aged 8-11 or you live in a cave, you might not be familiar with this show. I hated it at first but it totally grew on me.

Marceline, the cartoon character not to be confused with Marcy, the real person.

I have endearing nicknames for Bill and Christopher which I won't mention here because they are both serious pranksters and I am an easy target. Of course I've already referred to Chris as Little Man in this blog numerous times.

And then there are nicknames which are obvious and funny. Back in NJ there was this guy who walked past our house everyday with a coffee cup in his hand so naturally we called him "Coffee Man".

In college, my roommate and I had nicks for a lot of people. This way we could talk about them and no one had a clue. It was like having our own secret language. Some names were creative, some were embarrassing (for them even though they had no clue) and some were politically incorrect. For instance, there was this guy I knew very well who earned a nickname based on a vulgar conversation between me and the roommate. Thankfully (for him) that nick changed to something more appropo especially given the music he listened to. And no I'm not saying the derogatory nickname here (I have some standards!) but I can tell you he became the Flotsam to someone else's Jetsam.

Anyway, I think specially given nicknames are more personal. Hell, even I have nicknames that people have given me over time. They're cute and sweet and almost all have some story attached to them.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Here is the post I wrote the other night. You know, the one I mentioned while explaining my crazy, busy week? The one I wrote while being super tired and needed to clean up before publishing it on here? Yes, yes, that one.

I was on this highly educational website and I came across something interesting. And by highly educational I mean Pinterest. And when I say interesting, I really mean creepy.

There was this quote: If you can't fall asleep, it means you're awake in someone else's dream.

Well, thank you very much person dreaming about me. Because of you, I am lying awake here when I should be sleeping. Remind me to kick your damn sleeping ass next time you drag me into one of your dreams.

I would also like to point out how disturbing this quote is as well. I mean, would me being in someone else's dream qualify as kidnapping in some way? I am kinda there not of my own free will because I'd rather be sleeping but I can't because I have to go be in someone's dream.

It's almost like a job in a way. I have to go be somewhere else and I really don't want to. And I'm not even getting paid for this nocturnal visit! And let's not even discuss why I'm there in the first place and what I'm doing. In some cases me being in someone's dream could certainly be considered a nightmare.

At least I hope that I'm wearing a kick-ass outfit and looking awesome in whoever's dream I'm in. Then again, I'd rather not know. I shudder to think about what goes on in some people's heads, let alone their subconscious while they're sleeping.

My advice?

Go to sleep and leave me be! I have my own dreamy weirdness to deal with.

Friday, February 22, 2013

This morning I had to go all the way across town. And by all the way I mean I schlepped to the east side, past Fremont Street. I live in the southwest area just to give you some vague idea. Vegas is a huge city and more than that one long road familiarly known as 'The Strip'.

I had my route all mapped out and was happily on my way. Music wasn't an issue as the radio was cooperating for once and playing some decent songs, at first. And then it all went south. This is despite the fact that I was indeed heading north.

As I got closer to the downtown area the signs started getting confusing and then the music being played was getting crappier. I have musical A.D.D. as it is and I can't stand being in a car and hearing bad music so I'm constantly switching stations for something I like. So there I was, changing channels and in my distraction I missed my turn off and ended up on another highway. Oh crap.

Then the radio mocked me by playing some cool music and naturally I had to lower the volume because what's the first thing you do when you get lost or find yourself going the wrong way? You lower the volume. Thankfully I recognized streets and was able to turn myself around and get to my destination.

For this unnecessary inconvenience I blame the radio. And also the people who designed the freeway and their confusing signage. How I went from exit 76 on one freeway to exit 41 on another highway, I'll never know. I was supposed to get off on exit 75A but I never saw that exit unless I passed it while looking down at the radio dials and cursing the DJs.

The moral of the story: Bring a cd of music you thoroughly enjoy so you can spend more time watching the road signs and less time song-hunting on the radio. Unless you're like me and end up fast-forwarding through lesser enjoyable songs or switching cd's whilst driving. (That takes skill I might add).

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Okay, so I have been crazy, busy lately. And here's why: I got this temporary gig. No, not singing. Or playing guitar. I do play drums sometimes with whatever pens, pencils or sticks are in my hand at that moment. Oh and they do call me a rock star at the office but, I digress.

I'm doing some in-house work but I can't say where. You know, if I tell you then I have to kill you and all that. But since you haven't annoyed me or cut me off in traffic you don't deserve to die so let's leave it all a mystery. So, I've been doing this short stint for this company, which ends Friday. Then it's back to the same ol' same ol.

I've missed my computer time. Which loosely translates to writing and researching topics and in no way includes pinning things on Pinterest, chatting with people or playing games. Nooo! I'm a serious worker bee when I'm in my home office. Why the husband finds that last part so funny is beyond me.

In all seriousness, I should have more frequent posts once I get back to my normal routine. I did write one the other night but I need to clean it up before publishing it on here because apparently I make even less sense than usual when I'm really tired. Who knew?

Friday, February 15, 2013

I've had these lyrics tumbling around in my head for the past couple of days. For the normal person this is not at all unusual. But as we all know (and the husband is fond of reminding me) I'm far from normal. And the fact that these lyrics can even find room to exist in the anarchist playground that is my mind is quite a feat.

I don't know how anyone else deals with this besides humming and singing the tune currently playing in your head but I have to find the song in question and listen to it. Repeatedly. Until it's either out of my head or my musical A.D.D. has kicked in and I'm bored with the song at hand.

This one caught me off guard. It's certainly not in keeping with what I've been listening to lately. Some might be surprised, heck even I was, for a moment. But then again, I've grown musically over the years and listen to a lot of different types of music. Others I merely tolerate especially if I'm stuck somewhere that I can't control the station, but that's neither here nor there.

So tonight I found that song and listened to it. And it immediately brought me back to a special time and place. Funny how that happens. Almost like musical astral projection. Or melodic deja vu.

I think psychologists call it some form of association in which you identify a specific song with a specific person/place/time. Makes it sound so clinical and colder than it is. But don't quote me because I'm not a doctor. I don't play one on TV and I didn't stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, either.

Please tell me this happens to other people, too. I'd hate to think I have yet another thing to add to my List-of-reasons-I should-be-confined-to-a-padded-room.

In the meantime I'm off to listen to this song. Again. For the 10th time.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

NJ-Harry met NJ-Sally in college. (Which was located in, you guessed it, NJ) She had big hair. He was all "Hey, dude, how you doin?" They listened to the same music and started to hang out together. NJ-Harry liked NJ-Sally. And why shouldn't he? She was cool and he liked her attitude (which goes without saying). However, NJ-Sally liked him more than NJ-Harry liked her. He toyed with her emotions. He ran hot and cold. One minute he was sweet and into her and the next he was distant and unfeeling. It frustrated NJ-Sally and hurt her. Actually it stabbed her in the heart and she often wanted to grab him by the balls and squeeze just so he could know the pain she felt.

Then NJ-Harry graduated. As NJ-Sally finished her final year of school, NJ-Harry would continue to pop in and out of her life. Yeah, I know. (insert eye-roll here) Eventually they lost contact, thanks in large part to him.

So, NJ-Harry and NJ-Sally went their separate ways. Each got married and started a family. Neither one ever gave the other any thought. Well, maybe just in quick passing.

Fast-forward 20 years......

One day, on a well-known social media website, and thanks to NJ-Sally's, nosy but well-intentioned friend and former college roommate, contact was initiated between NJ-Sally and NJ-Harry. It was along the lines of "hey dude, how's it going?" and a quick catch-up. Nothing more and nothing less. NJ-Sally didn't expect anything else cause she was so over him at this point.

Then, three years later and just for the hell of it, NJ-Sally commented on something NJ-Harry had written. A few comments more passed between them and a conversation began. A long, continuous one that involved some reminiscing, updates on life, and many apologies (on NJ-Harry's part). About friggin' time, right?

Anyway, they started to stay in touch and bada bing bada boom, a true friendship between them has been born. Unlike their namesakes, NJ-Harry and NJ-Sally liked one another at first. And now they've come full circle. They still share a love of music. Oh, and NJ-Sally is still cool and has more attitude than ever. NJ-Harry still finds this endearing.

So, was this meant to be, as some people seem to think? If you believe in Fate, then maybe these two needed time apart in order to mature before reuniting.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Whenever I get frustrated, or annoyed, I have this phrase that I say, Christ on a bike. Don't ask me where I got it, I think I heard some character utter it in a movie. Nicholas Cage comes to mind. Crap, now I'm going to go crazy trying to track down what movie I think I heard him say it in.

So like I said this is my go-to phrase when something exasperates me or really pisses me off. Say I'm waiting on a line at the post office for 15 minutes behind some pinhead woman who insists on questioning the price of each package she ships, has no clue how to fill out a customs form, and wants to split her payment up between cash and credit card. Christ on a bike, lady! (That's also a true story, by the way)

I don't think it's very bad or sacrilegious because I'm not taking his name in vain. Instead I'm taking his name and giving him some exercise. There's nothing derogatory about riding a bike. If someone were to say Sandy on a bike, I wouldn't be offended even though it's been years since I rode a bike. However, putting my name at the beginning of that phrase just doesn't have the same effect.

If Christ were here today I don't think he'd mind. In fact, Christ probably could have used a bike back in his time. It would've been easier on his feet and he'd have made good time in all his travels. Not to mention he'd be in awesome shape and could probably give Lance Armstrong a run for his money.

I once heard the phrase Christ on a cracker but that one just doesn't make sense to me. Why would he be on a cracker? At least he could ride the bike. I guess since there are many different names for God there are also different objects to put Christ on so long as it's not done in vain.

When my mom gets annoyed or is in disbelief about something she says Jesus Christmas. For example, the northeast just got hit with a huge snowstorm, and she said, "Jesus Christmas look at all that snow they got." I look at it this way, at least she's keeping Christ in Christmas.

I apologize if I've offended anyone with this post. Good God, that wasn't my intention.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Already I'm doing better than last month since this is the third post for February and January had a dismal two entries. Hopefully I don't ninja vanish again mid-month. I make no promises so don't hold me to anything because I hate disappointing people. I'm sorry in advance, okay?

Sometimes when I can't immediately fall asleep, a whole blog post comes to me. It's annoying, really, because it's a smart, witty post that I should type up post-haste but I'm just comfortable enough to not want to move and yet still not quite in that ready-to-fall asleep phase. Then I try to go over key points in hopeful determination that I'll remember it the next day and before I'm done I fall asleep.

I should buy one of those mini recorders so I can record my post and transcribe it the next day, but that would require me to have to grab my idiot cell phone in the middle of the night to use as a night light so I can find the recorder and of course there's always the risk of waking up Bill. Even though he's not nearly as homicidal as I am when woken up suddenly from a deep sleep, I would still feel guilty.

There's also the fact that I would have to talk out loud or at least in an unsoft (that's my word and I say it's real) voice and not wanting to wake everyone I'd have to get up and go into another room and at that point I may just as well grab my laptop and type the damn thing up then and there.

The whole thing just isn't worth the aggravation. So instead I'll just continue sporadically posting about everything and anything cool, funny or nonsensical. At the very least it'll be a post and whoever wanders in here will have something to read. Win win for all!

Sunday, February 10, 2013

It's almost Valentine's Day. You know, hearts and flowers and Chocolate! I'm partial to Russell Stover candies, but I'm not picky. Whitmans. Godiva. It's all good,(right Husband?who may or may not be reading this).

In honor of this holiday I thought I would look around and see how other parts of the world celebrated. Do they buy flowers? Chocolates? Silly little Scooby Doo cards that say, "I ruff ru"? Let's have a look. As usual, my smartass remarks are in blue.

Denmark:

Danish men send their ladylove a valentine known as a gaekkebrev (or "joking letter"). This gaekkebrev is a romantic letter that contains a rhyme penned by the sender himself. The fun part of this custom is that the letter doesn't have the name of the sender. Instead, he signs the message with dots...one dot for each letter in his name. If the lady correctly guesses his name, he rewards her with an Easter egg during Eastertide. Where do I begin? A romantic letter sounds very nice. Signing it with dots? Is this a valentine or some sort of morse code? And what if the lady guesses incorrectly?

Recipient: Oh Joe! Thank you for sending me such a lovely valentine.
Joke letter sender: Joe? Who's Joe?
Blushing and stuttering recipient: Tom?
Joe: I didn't send you a Valentine. I don't even like you.
Awkward.Japan:

Valentine's Day is observed on February 14, when women present chocolates or gifts to the men they love. It is also common for women to give chocolates to any man close to them, such as co-workers and male friends, whom they don't actually love. This kind of chocolate-gift is called giri-choco which mean chocolates given because of obligations. Then on March 14, known as the "White Day", men who received chocolates or gifts on Valentine's day are supposed to return the favour to the women who gave them gifts.
Does this sound backwards to anyone else? And what if I don't like the guys I work with? Happy Valentine's Day, Boband Mike. Here's some chocolate....no, no don't thank me. You might want to make sure there's plenty of toilet paper in the men's room though.

Britain:

One way that the British express their love on Valentine's Day is by composing verses. About a month prior, certain British tabloids and magazines publish sonnets and verses to commemorate the holiday. This is especially helpful for the poetically challenged. Nothing says I Love You more than passing off a Lord Byron poem as your own.

I say that if you want something specific for Valentine's Day, drop hints. Gee that Tiffany heart bracelet is so cute. If, after the day has come and gone and you got knee high socks instead of the bracelet, then take a page from the Japanese (and me) and lace his chocolate with ex-lax.

*Thank you to theholidayspot.com for their information.
**All opinions are my own.

Friday, February 1, 2013

I have not abandoned you. Even though it's February and I have Two, just Two stinkin' entries to show for this year. I've been busy? I'm trying to look for a (gulp!) actual bricks 'n mortar job. I know, that's no excuse.

In all seriousness, I've temporarily lost my writing mojo. It's kinda like writer's block except it sounds swankier because instead of wanting to write but having nothing to say, I have lots to say but no oomph to do it. Which also means I'm lazy. Okay not so much me, but my Muse. She's the lazy one. I blame her! She took off on a vacation for parts unknown and left no forwarding address and I've been stuck here alone trying to make myself write something, anything. But I hate doing that because it just sounds so forced, like when the teacher made you write an essay about someone you admire. But then you couldn't decide who to write about and what to say so you sat there watching the clock and looking at your classmates furiously writing away and you panicked so you ended up writing about your old, eccentric aunt who collects porcelain cats and smells like mothballs. Thanks a lot for that exercise in writing humiliation Mrs. Teacher!

Anyway, I promise to return here and post more silly, inane things about my life and make witty observations about the world. Just as soon as Miss Lazy Muse returns.

Thank you for being so excellent. And not judging. At least not too harshly.